Playing the Hero
by beaujolais
Summary: Jim Brass thought he had put Bell's death behind him until a camera crew brought it all back.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, so I know Sofia isn't everyone's favorite but after watching "I Like to Watch", I, along with my brother in law (a guy no less), noticed some definite Brass/Sofia vibes going on. So, I sort of took that vibe and ran with it. Yeah, that means this is Brass/Sofia.  
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**This is a story written in three parts. Part II will post next weekend and then Part III a week after that. Part I has spoilers for "ABRTI" and "I Like to Watch". Mega thanks go out to my friend and beta, Ethereal Journey. Any mistakes you might find are all mine. I have this nasty habit of adding in more stuff after the fact.**

**Oh, and I don't own the characters but Paul Guilfoyle totally owns me.**

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**Playing the Hero**

**Part I**

Sofia Curtis pulled up along the curb and checked the address. This was the place. Cute house, not at all what she expected. Then again, when it came to Jim Brass, she wasn't sure what to expect.

Since she'd transferred to PD from the Crime Lab, she knew Brass had been looking out for her and making sure the transition was easy. She was a woman in a predominantly male environment and sometimes that didn't go over very well with the other detectives. Fortunately, only a couple had openly given her shit and she'd stood her ground. Of course knowing that Brass had her back helped.

They'd been working a robbery case together, taking a break to grab a bite to eat when the call came in on that warm November day.

Sofia had been behind Officer Bell; she'd doubted herself from the moment the rookie went down. She knew she'd reacted badly, going to Grissom when she shouldn't have, and spending hours reliving every single detail, hoping to glean some kind of truth until she'd finally rationalized the trajectory of her bullet. She had so thoroughly convinced herself that it had been her errant shot that killed the young cop, the self-inflicted guilt was eating her alive. Feeling completely helpless and with no one to turn to, she had finally called the one person who had to know what she was going through. She could have kicked herself for not doing it sooner.

Brass had been by her side the entire time, always ready to lend an ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on, never once judging her. Sofia knew that many of the other cops already had their suspicions about her: she'd been part of the 'nerd squad'; she was the rookie detective. They were waiting for her to make a mistake. But Brass was different. Jim never questioned her move to homicide; he never made her feel like an outcast. If she'd been the one to kill Bell, she knew without a doubt that he would have never turned his back on her.

And that was why she never turned her back on him. When the evidence finally exposed the truth, when it showed that it was not her bullet but Brass's that felled the young cop, she stuck by him. At first he didn't want the company but she was insistent and eventually their meetings at the little diner a few blocks off the strip became routine. It took a few mornings of blank stares and dead silence, of him fidgeting with his coffee or his hands, or making idle talk about the weather, but she finally managed to get him to talk and eventually morning had spilled over to afternoon. They'd gone to a little park a few blocks away and it was there, sharing a bench in the shade that his iron façade had finally crumbled.

She'd never seen Jim Brass get emotional. He'd tried to hold everything in, tried to keep it all in check, probably as he'd been taught, but when his resolve broke and everything came rushing forward like a flash flood, she'd been there, giving him the support he needed.

They never spoke about what had happened in the park. Sofia assumed Brass was embarrassed at having her see him in his moment of weakness but the bond between them had definitely strengthened.

Months passed, Jim had been cleared of all charges and had tried to move on with his life, and their morning rendezvous at the diner had become nothing but a distant memory. However the feelings Sofia had for Jim hadn't subsided; if anything they had only grown stronger. She understood him a little better now; he'd given her a glimpse beneath the hardened shell and she knew that the cynicism and tough cop demeanor were merely his way of coping with the stress of the job.

With both of them working in homicide, crossing paths was inevitable but unfortunately, she'd only managed to work with him on a few cases and then it had only been on the peripheral. At first she'd worried that perhaps he didn't want to be around her, that whatever happened between them had only been a moment of desperate comfort and nothing else, but then she'd started to notice the looks, the way he'd catch her gaze and hold it, then smile. It became apparent that Jim Brass was interested but neither one of them seemed to have the courage to make the first move. Thankfully, one of them finally did.

She'd been standing in the break room, listening to Vartann and Cavaliere try to out boast each other when Jim walked in. She saw his eyes dart to both men then back to her; she watched him come across the room, swiping his left hand against his hip in that familiar, nervous way as he strolled past her. Stopping next to her he poured himself a cup of coffee then stood beside her, mirroring her stance.

Letting his gaze go to the two men, he leaned close to her ear and said, "How about dinner tomorrow night?"

Her reply was without hesitation. "I'd love to."

"I'll pick you up at 6:30."

Sipping his coffee, he walked past her, the other two detectives barely registering his presence.

**xoxoxoxo**

Jim had taken her to a quiet little steak place well off the tourist beaten path. The food was excellent but to be honest, Sofia could have been eating shoe leather for all she cared. Her attention was completely focused on Jim Brass.

They talked and drank wine and made confessions about all the things they were terrible at like cooking for Sofia, _I was in college before I knew how to boil water for spaghetti_ and basketball for Jim, _I'm a short white guy. I can't jump._

Sofia couldn't recall enjoying herself more and by the time he drove her home, her face muscles hurt from laughing. He'd insisted on opening her car door and while he walked her to her front door, she'd asked him in for coffee. He'd said yes but before they could even get inside, a call and then an urgent page for Jim meant he only had time for regrets. After a slightly awkward first kiss that still managed to leave them both a little breathless, he promised to call her later and true to his word, he did. Unfortunately, that had been the last Sofia had seen of Jim outside of work.

Like before, Brass seemed to distance himself, once again leaving Sofia confused. This time there had been no stealing glances or lingering touches. It wasn't as if he purposefully went out of his way to avoid her and he always treated her professionally but that was the problem. Gone was the closeness, the sense of an underlying bond they'd shared. It was as if Jim had once again put up that wall and she didn't understand why.

But while working the serial rapist case together, something in Jim's demeanor had changed. He was relaxed again, joking and flirtatious, and although she was even more confused than before, she was hopeful that some semblance of their prior friendship had returned.

Sofia knew something was wrong when she'd seen a very angry Jim storm out of the building, refusing to stop when she'd called after him. Overhearing a conversation in the hallway, she later found out why.

After trying his cell phone and getting no response, Sofia had demanded to see the video. Hearing Jim's response to the question, seeing the expression on his face, made her heart ache for the detective. Where others might have seen anger, all Sofia saw was the hurt and self-recrimination. If she hadn't been so worried about the repercussions, she would have ripped the video out of the machine and destroyed it. Instead, she did the only thing she could think of: she went to Jim's house.

Standing at the curb under the hot sun, she wondered how he'd react to her being there.

**xoxoxoxo**

Dressed in shorts, a T-shirt, and a pair of worn Nike hightops, his hands covered in padded gloves, Jim Brass repetitively punched and jabbed the heavy bag that hung from the ceiling of his garage. He needed to work off the stress and tension of the last few days: he needed to feel pain.

When Brass was younger, he'd escape to the bottle, drinking himself into a stupor and suffering the after-effects for days, but he'd long since given up looking for relief in the bottom of a bottle and now boxing was his outlet, his way of punishing himself. He'd put the heavy bag up after Daniel Bell's wake and came out here every day of his two week suspension to punch and jab the bag until he had nothing left. He'd hoped it would help him exorcise some of the guilt but it didn't. No amount of physical punishment could make that go away. So with the help of his PEAP counselor, he'd found a way to compartmentalize all the pain and remorse into a neat little box and tuck it away in the back of his mind. Sometimes the box would open in his dreams, make his heart pound and wake him up in a cold sweat, but for the most part, Brass had managed to keep all the thoughts and feelings at bay. Until today. One question and everything came rushing out of the box and Brass wasn't sure he could ever put it back.

Slipping on the gloves and spending time pummeling the bag, putting his weight into each punch, had helped. The workout gave him time to clear his head and channel his anger, but mostly it gave him time to think. Generally, Brass spent most of his days and nights thinking about Tracy Bell, wondering how the young widow was coping with a new baby, two young children and the loss of her husband. But today was different. Today he wasn't thinking about Tracy Bell; today he was thinking about Sofia Curtis and to some degree that made him feel guilty all over again.

He'd wondered at first if maybe he was just getting sympathy from Sofia—like a dog that had been kicked and beaten. Maybe Sofia had simply felt sorry for him, made him her cause, and once he was better, she'd move on.

But she hadn't moved on. She'd made it quite clear that she wasn't about to abandon him. Brass was flattered really. Sofia was smart and beautiful and had managed to see something beneath his rather worn exterior that she seemed to like. He sure as hell saw a lot in her he liked and that was the problem.

Not unlike Gil Grissom, Jim Brass had also let his work consume his life; only in his case it was an escape from a bad marriage. With his daughter, Ellie, as the constant reminder of his marital failures, he'd been unable to sustain a relationship for any length of time. It wasn't that Brass didn't want someone in his life but even after twelve years, he still bore the scars of a bitter divorce.

Brass had known ever since that day in November when he'd finally broken down in front of her: he was falling in love with Sofia. And the thought of it scared the hell out of him.

As much as he wanted to get involved, he knew it was a mistake—and not just because she was his subordinate. She needed someone better than Jim Brass. Getting involved with a middle-aged guy probably old enough to be her father, who'd made a mess of his life and had retirement staring him in the face, was a complete waste of her time. She deserved someone better. Eventually, she'd want someone better.

So Brass did what he'd always done when the relationship started to turn serious: he pulled away, distancing himself from her as best he could. He tried to keep their association on a professional basis only and thankfully, apart from a few run-ins at the coffee machine or in the corridors, he had been able to avoid her until that damn Hard Crime camera crew showed up. Sofia was the first detective on the scene of a rape case in a high-rise apartment building but because of the media attention and its high-profile status, the sheriff had put the case in Brass's lap.

Brass wasn't sure if it was the lights from the camera crew that brought out his nervous energy or once again being in such close proximity to Sofia after his self-imposed separation but he could have kicked himself for asking her to show a little skin during the interrogation of a possible suspect. He'd been quick to apologize later and she'd told him she wouldn't have done it if she hadn't agreed with him, but he still felt like he'd somehow taken advantage of her. If he'd asked Catherine or Sara to do that, they would have most likely punched him.

The harder Jim hit the solid, unforgiving vinyl bag, the easier it seemed to eradicate the events of the last few days, even if it were only temporary. He could transfer all of his anger into each punch but he couldn't stop the random thoughts from breaking into his conscience.

_Why couldn't that guy have just left well enough alone? Why'd he have to bring up the shooting—and on camera, no less?_

Maybe it was just his guilty conscience imagining most of it but it was still there: the accusing looks, the hushed voices whenever he walked past a group of guys from Patrol. The talk among the detectives had died down months ago but that wasn't the case with the uniformed officers. Bell might have been a rookie, but he was one of theirs.

Stopping momentarily, holding onto the bag as his shoulders burned and his chest heaved with exhaustion, Brass remembered. There was one man in particular; one police officer who still held Brass responsible, who felt that forgiveness from Bell's widow and being cleared by the review board wasn't enough, who might have held enough of a grudge to tip off the camera crew.

Feeling a surge of white, hot anger, Brass hit the bag with a loud grunt, sending it bucking against the chains suspending it from the rafters.

"You seem to be working off a lot of pent up aggression."

Startled, he turned around to see Sofia leaning against the garage door frame, arms crossed and looking like she was ready for battle. He wasn't going to give her one. He didn't have any fight left.

**xoxoxoxo**

Sofia had been watching him for a few minutes before she finally spoke. He'd been so focused on his task that he'd never noticed her. Good thing too because she enjoyed watching him work out. Admittedly, she also enjoyed seeing him in something other than a suit and tie but even more so she enjoyed looking at his broad back and the way his muscular calves and biceps flexed with every punch. Suits and ties definitely did not do him justice.

"So does that thing have a name?" she asked, gesturing at the heavy bag with her chin.

"Several," he answered, bent over, resting his hands on his knees, grimacing at the ache in his muscles as the perspiration dripped off his nose and chin and onto the concrete floor.

"Jim, I saw the Hard Crime tape. I know what happened."

"Stupid son of a bitch asked me about the shooting. That was out of line." He turned on his heels and hit the heavy bag with a hard straight right.

She came closer, tilting her head to get a better look at his face. "You okay?"

"Yeah." He stopped and held onto the bag as if it were the only thing holding him up, the sweat on his face and in his hair glistening in the sunlight. His arms and shoulders were burning from the strenuous workout but it felt strangely good.

"Are you still lying or are you telling me the truth?"

"Still?" Brass lifted up the end of his soaked T-shirt and wiped the sweat off his face, realizing too late that Sofia probably didn't want to see his sweaty, hairy stomach.

She tried to keep her expression bland as she watched him, tried to keep her voice even as her gaze dropped momentarily to the unexpected presentation his shorts provided. Clearing her throat gently, she said, "Jim, I saw the tape; I heard you tell that guy you sleep okay at night. I know that's a lie."

"How do you know?" Brass saw her wince at his question and felt a little bad for snapping at her but he didn't like where this was headed.

"Because I know how I sleep and I know it has to be worse for you."

He slowly pulled off his gloves and tossed them onto a shelf, then walked over to the wooden steps of the redwood deck and sat down heavily.

"You know, I really don't sleep so good but I got a bottle of Tylenol PM that does the trick. I sure as hell wasn't going to tell him that because it's what he wanted to hear. He was looking for some sort of cop-on-the-edge story and he couldn't have picked a better candidate. Christ, I walked right into it and did a pretty good job of fu…messing it up."

He scratched the back of his head then leaned forward, moving over as she sat down next to him. "Careful, I'm kind of offensive to myself right about now."

Tilting her head towards him, she said, "You don't smell any worse than a DB."

He smirked. "Thanks."

"I'm surprised you didn't punch that guy."

"Don't think it didn't cross my mind. I've been in enough trouble this past year."

"I don't think anyone would have blamed you if you did. You showed a lot of restraint."

He raised his eyebrows and blew out his breath. "Yeah, that's me: the picture of restraint."

Hearing the undercurrent in his reply, she turned sharply towards him. "You know, I've wanted to ask you about that."

He leaned back, his posture verging on defensive. "About what?"

"Look, Jim, I like you—probably more than I should—and I think it's safe to say the attraction is mutual. But ever since our night out, I'm getting all kinds of weird vibes from you. Did I do something wrong?"

Jim stared at the ground for a long time, knowing that whatever he said, she'd dissect and analyze his words all day. Women were like that, especially ones that were detectives. So he figured he might as well be straightforward with her. "No, I did."

"You? What did you do?"

"It's not what I did so much as I don't think I'm the right guy for you."

Sofia felt her neck redden. She was tired of everyone else making assumptions about what was in her best interests. First it was Conrad Ecklie, then her mother and now Jim.

"And who is? Someone younger, better looking? Someone who's got a nice, safe job so I can settle down and raise a nice family?"

"Except for that part about someone better looking," he smiled, hoping she saw the humor, thinking by the look on her face that she didn't, "that's about right."

"Jim, you're a cop. You should know better than to make assumptions. For one thing I'm thirty-five."

"You are?" He had to admit that definitely made him feel a little better about their age difference.

"I am. Had my birthday last fall. If you knew me a little better, you might have known that."

"Touché. But I get points for thinking you're a lot younger than you are, right?"

"Possibly but don't change the subject." She gave him a hint of a smile but that faded quickly as her annoyance continued. "The second thing you shouldn't assume is that every woman under the age of forty wants kids. That's never been a priority for me. My mom is a cop. I didn't grow up with the traditional June and Ward Cleaver household. I never aspired to be a soccer mom with a minivan. I always wanted to be in law enforcement and that's not a very forgiving career when it comes to parenting."

He rolled his eyes. "You're telling me."

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway got their attention.

"Expecting company?"

"No." He got to his feet first then offered her a hand up, more as a truce than anything else. They walked together around the corner of the house as Brass recognized Catherine's strawberry blonde head behind the wheel of the Yukon Denali.

"You do attract blondes, don't you?"

He turned quickly to look at Sofia, catching what—a hint of jealously perhaps?

"Hey, Jim," Catherine said walking up the drive. Her curious glance went slowly to the other woman. "Sofia, nice to see you."

"Catherine."

Jim wasn't sure if Sofia's curt reply was in response to Catherine's untimely arrival or if she was still pissed at him but either way the tension was making him a little uncomfortable.

"What brings you here, Cath?" Brass asked, aware that Sofia was now standing very close to his right shoulder.

"I, uh, just came by to see how you were doing. When I passed you in the parking lot, you looked like you were ready to beat the shit out of someone." Her gaze went to his damp T-shirt and shorts, at the hair still plastered to his head and then to the heavy bag hanging in his garage. "Looks like you did too."

"That god-damn asshole brought up the shooting. He asked me how I slept."

"On camera?"

Brass nodded.

"He had no right."

"Yeah, well, there's not much I can do about it now."

Feeling awkward in the midst of the conversation, Sofia found an easy excuse to leave. "Hey, Jim, mind if I use your bathroom?"

"Sure, down the hallway, first door on the left."

Catherine waited until the younger woman had disappeared into the house before she said what Brass knew was coming.

"You know, I heard rumors but I didn't think they were true."

Jim shook his head and laughed incredibly. "Cath, they aren't true. Sofia's been a good friend. She stood by me after the…accident. She helped me get through it—as a friend. She heard what happened today and she came by to see how I was doing. Probably not too different from why you're here, right?"

Catherine didn't answer the question but her smile gave her away. Turning serious, she asked, "Tell me the truth, are you doing okay?"

"I'm fine, really. Got me pissed off more than anything. I try to put all that behind me and move on and then some jackass goes dredging it back up again. I didn't need that."

"Well, I was going to say that if you ever needed someone to talk to, give me a call but," she glanced towards the house, "I think Sofia's got it covered. Just be careful, okay? I don't want to see you hurt again."

"Yeah," he grinned sheepishly, embarrassed at all the concern shown for him. "I will. Thanks for coming by." He followed her to her truck, standing aside as she climbed in then shut the door.

Leaning out the open window, Catherine started up the engine. "Hey, Jim."

"Yeah?"

"For what it's worth, I think she'd be good for you."

"You do?" Given Catherine's often critical opinion of Brass's dating choices, he was surprised.

"Yes, I do."

"You think it would work?"

"Maybe, maybe not but until you stop dragging your heels, you won't know."

"I mean the age difference and all…"

"It doesn't seem to bother her." Catherine studied the frown on her friend's face. "Does it bother you?"

"A little. We're at different places in our lives."

"Are you interested in her?"

"This isn't Junior High, Cath. It doesn't matter if I'm interested in her or not. If I'm not the right person for her…"

"Look, she's not Nancy and you're a lot smarter than you were back then. You won't make the same mistakes again."

Finding a crack in the cement much more interesting than Catherine's brief assessment of his life, Brass didn't reply.

"Give it a chance, Jim. Do you really want to be asking yourself a couple of years from now about what could have been? At least if you try and it doesn't work out, you'll know. Look at Grissom. He's never even tried."

Irritated, he conceded her point. "You're right."

"Besides, you're hot and sweaty and you smell pretty bad yet, she was willing to stand next to you." Catherine put the truck in reverse and backed down the drive, still talking, "If that's not love…"

Brushing off her remark with a laugh, he rubbed the back of his neck as he headed back up the driveway.

Maybe there was some truth to what Catherine said. Maybe he should stop dragging his heels and give this relationship thing a chance before it was too late and Sofia changed her mind.

Then again, he thought, seeing the frown firmly fixed on Sofia's face as she emerged from the house, maybe she'd already changed her mind.

**xoxoxoxo**

"You and Catherine go back a ways, don't you?" Sofia asked before taking another bite of her sandwich.

They were camped out on Jim's living room floor, Sofia sitting against Jim's leather sofa, Jim sitting across from her, a baseball game playing on the television in the background. Sofia had the night off while Brass had to work but he'd managed to convince her to at least stick around for lunch. She worried about him getting enough sleep before his shift but he promised to kick her out early so he could grab a few hours and she finally agreed. Of course Sofia didn't realize part of staying for lunch meant she got to run up to the local Subway to get lunch while Jim took a shower. At least he paid.

"Yeah, we do. Catherine was just a level one when I came to Vegas." Brass smiled at the memory of a much younger, very eager Catherine Willows. "She was just a couple of years out of school and still married then. I was barely in the door when they sent me out on a double homicide. Gil and Catherine were the CSI's assigned to the case. I have to say, they did crime scene investigation a lot different in Vegas than in New Jersey so I endeared myself to them quickly."

Sofia leaned her head against the couch cushions and looked up at the ceiling. "I can just imagine."

"They set me straight right off the bat but that didn't mean we didn't butt heads for a while." As Jim spoke, he tried to ignore the inviting view of her chest and the bare path up to her neck. Shaking away the thought of all the things he wanted to do her at that very moment, he picked up his drink and inadvertently blew into the straw, making a loud bubbling noise that caused her to burst out laughing.

Watching her laugh, Brass was suddenly struck by how relaxed they were together. Then again, he shouldn't have been so surprised. They'd seen each other at their weakest. After that, everything else was just filler.

"Hey, you still with me?"

Brass shook his head, aware that he'd been lost in thought. "Sorry," he said, offering up a smile with his apology.

"You're tired, you're full, you're relaxed—I expect you'll have no trouble getting to sleep."

He tried to stifle the yawn. "Yeah, I think it's all catching up with me now."

"Well, I'll take off and let you get to bed." Sofia got to her feet quickly.

Brass looked up and held out his hand. "Little help here?"

She grabbed hold and gave him a strong tug up, helping him to his feet then steadying him when he nearly crashed into her.

"Thanks." Jim stood close to her, still clasping her hand in his. "I think I'm past the years of sitting comfortably on a hard floor."

"The picnic was your idea."

He smiled sheepishly and laughed. "It was, wasn't it? Oh, well, sounded like a good idea at the time."

"Thanks for lunch."

They stood there in an awkward silence for what seemed like an eternity before Jim finally leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips. "Thanks for looking out for me."

Sofia pressed her forehead against his. "No matter what happens, I'll always have your back. Remember that."

He smiled and kissed her again. "I will."

Walking her to the door, he watched her until she got in her car and drove away, and then lingered on the front step.

With one problem not quite resolved but at least placated for the moment, another sprang to the surface. Something still bothered him; something he knew would continue to fester and grow unless he put a stop to it. Brass didn't like troublemakers. He'd seen the way they could cause a rift among the department and he wasn't going to stand by and let it happen here, especially when he was the root of the problem.

Picking up the phone he dialed one person he was certain he could trust.

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This part contains spoilers for "ABRTI" and possibly, "I Like to Watch". **

**Mega thanks go out to my friend and beta, Ethereal Journey. As I said before, I have this nasty habit of adding in more stuff after the fact. Well, this time I added a whole new paragraph. Any mistakes you might find are all mine.**

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Playing the Hero**

**Part II**

"Rumor has it that Curtis here has the hots for Brass."

"Oh, yeah, Adams?" Sam Vega asked as he walked into the PD locker room to see the ranking police officer sitting on the bench and seemingly holding court with two other officers while Sofia Curtis put her bag into her locker and tried to look uninterested.

"Makes perfect sense." he shrugged.

"How's that, Sarge?" one of the standing officers took a seat at the end of the bench.

"I mean, it stands to reason. Sofia here thought she shot Danny and Brass stood by her. He killed Danny and she stands by him. And what happened to Brass? He's Teflon man. They clear him. Meanwhile, Danny's widow is raising three kids on her own. Three little babies. Brass can't even manage the one kid he's got." Adams looked up to see Vega move aside and Jim Brass step forward.

"You got a problem with me, Adams, you come see me. You tell me to my face."

As Vega ushered Sofia out of the way, Adams stood up, stretching out his full 6 foot, 2 inch frame, and looked down at Brass. "The fact that you outrank me is probably the only thing keeping me from turning you into a little grease spot right now."

Brass took off his badge and his gun and set both on the wooden bench in plain sight of Adams. "You want to even the odds, you got it." Jim got as close to being in the other man's face as he could. "Give me your best shot."

Sofia started to step forward only to feel Vega's hand on her shoulder. "This isn't your fight," Sam said. "Let them go. Jim knows what he's doing."

Brass waited for Adams to make the first move, but the bigger man never did.

"That's what I thought. Chicken shit." Jim turned around and reached down to pick up his badge and gun, catching Sofia's eye and registering the alarm on her face too late.

Adams lurched forward, grabbing Brass by the back of the collar and smashing him head first into the row of metal lockers then swinging him around and tossing him across the bench and into the row of lockers on the other side. As Vega and the two uniformed officers rushed Adams, shoving him to the floor, Sofia quickly scrambled towards Jim, pulling out her phone and calling for help as she slid onto the floor next to him. Ignoring the commotion going on behind her, her attention was fixed on the blood seeping out of the open cut on Jim's forehead.

Sofia was used to seeing blood but the sight of Jim's blood and of the red smear that trailed down the dented locker and then splattered across the room made her cringe. Head wounds always were messy.

"How is he?" Vega asked, holding out a handful of paper towels.

Pressing the makeshift bandage against Jim's head, she said, "He's out cold. I called the paramedics."

"Okay, let me get this piece of crap out of here and I'll let reception know what's going on."

"Are you going to tell the sheriff too?"

"Damn right I am! I want Adams' stripes."

"Sam, you said Jim knew what he was doing. He did this on purpose didn't he? He never intended to hit Adams, did he?"

Vega laughed. "No, he never did. Among other things, Jim found out Adams fed that camera crew with the details about Bell. He wanted Adams to hang himself. Looks like he did."

"You think those two uniforms will back Jim up? I mean, it's their word against ours."

"Well, Jim is Tyner's godfather and Metcalf is his go-to guy so I think they'll tell the truth."

Jim let out a low groan and started to move, struggling to lift himself up.

Sofia helped him into a sitting position then put a hand on his shoulder. "Hang on, Jim. The paramedics are on the way."

Brass closed his eyes then re-opened them, trying to focus on whoever was speaking. Right now he could see two Vega's but his mouth wasn't moving and the voice sounded a little too feminine to belong to Sam.

Putting a hand to his head, he asked, "We get him?"

"We sure did." Vega reached down and gave Brass a reassuring pat on the arm. "Hang tight. You're going to be fine." Sam turned his attention to Sofia. "I'm going to see about Adams. You okay here?"

"Fine."

Jim tried to push away whatever was on his head but was met with a restraining hand.

"You split your head open and it's bleeding pretty bad. Just stay put, okay?"

Given the way the room was spinning, Jim wasn't sure where exactly he'd be going. Staying put seemed like a very good idea. "Sure."

"That was a pretty stupid thing you did."

Brass leaned his head against the cool metal and shut his eyes. It didn't do his head much good but at least the room stopped spinning. "Yeah, not one of my better plans."

"But it worked. Next time maybe you could let me know? Jesus, Jim, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

He opened one eye and looked at her. "I'm hoping there won't be a next time. Sorry for bringing you into this but I had a feeling Adams would bite on gossip."

"Ah, that's okay but technically, that part about having the hots for you? It's not gossip; it's a fact."

Brass held her gaze for an impossibly long time and if the paramedics hadn't shown up at that moment, he might have kissed her right there.

Or at least one of her.

**xoxoxoxo**

Sofia pulled into Jim's driveway several hours later and shut off the engine. Jim had his eyes closed and his head against the headrest the entire way home but she suspected it wasn't because he was asleep.

Adams hadn't succeeded in cracking Jim's skull or breaking any bones but he had given him four stitches, a nice lump and a nasty bruise. She suspected that right about now, Brass probably had the mother of all headaches.

"You're home."

Brass opened one eye then the other and grunted as he got out of the SUV. Digging his house keys from his pocket and unlocking the door, he was aware that Sofia had followed him onto the porch as he stepped inside.

"You want to come in?"

"The doctor said you needed someone to keep an eye on you for a day or two."

"Oh, yeah? You volunteering?"

"Unless you have a better offer."

He stepped back onto the porch and looked around. "No one's beating down my door so I guess the job's yours." He stepped aside to let her pass then followed her inside and shut the door.

"Seriously, Jim, if this makes you uncomfortable, I'm sure I could call Sam." She reached for her cell phone only to have him put his hands up in a halting gesture.

"No, I'm good with this." He rubbed his forehead, carefully avoiding the tender area around the stitched cut. "You want something to drink? I got water and uh, water."

"Water's good but you sit. I'll get it."

"Cold bottles are in the fridge. I think I even have some of that flavored stuff." Jim sunk down into the sofa and flipped on the television then kicked off his shoes. His head hurt, his back ached and now that he was home, all he wanted to do was sleep.

"Here." She held out one of bottles for him and he accepted, twisting off the cap and taking a long gulp as she sat down beside him.

"I never mentioned it before but you have a nice place." She was looking around the room. "It suits you."

"Suits me? How?"

"It's neat, a little old-fashioned, but very masculine. Very stylish."

Brass couldn't help but chuckle. "I have a style?"

"You do."

"Don't let that get out." He paused long enough to yawn. "I don't want to ruin my chances for the next _Project Runway_."

"Well, I don't think Tim Gunn's going to show up on your doorstep any time soon."

"Can't say I'm disappointed." He closed his eyes then opened them, his eyelids heavy.

"How do you know about _Project Runway_?"

Brass slowly rubbed his temple, trying to massage away his headache since the drugs didn't seem to be working. "I always had a thing for Heidi Klum."

Rolling her eyes, Sofia moved down to the end of the couch. "Look, why don't you stretch out and I'll rub your head."

"You sure?"

She grabbed one of the cushions off the chair and put it in her lap. "Here, lie down."

Jim did as she asked, resting his head on the pillow and propping his feet up on the arm of the couch while Sofia ran her fingers through his hair, gently applying pressure as she massaged his head.

A few minutes later and Jim was snoring softly on her lap. Unfortunately, twenty minutes later Jim's phone rang, sending him rocketing upright and in search of the offending noise.

"Brass," he answered tersely as Sofia disappeared down the hall. "Yeah, Sam, I'm doing okay." His conversation with Vega lasted all of two minutes, and though he appreciated the other detective's concern, he couldn't help but feel a little irritated at being awakened by the call. Although it had only been a nap, it had been the best twenty minutes of sleep Brass had had in many months.

Coming back into the room and retaking her place on the couch, Sofia put the pillow back on her lap. "You were down for the count. Still have the headache?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, Brass nodded. "Yeah, but it's not as bad as it was. You know, you don't have to stick around just to make sure I don't get dizzy and fall down or something. I feel okay and I'm sure you got better things to do."

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" Sofia asked in jest but inwardly wondered if perhaps he might be more at ease on his own. She'd sensed that he wasn't completely comfortable with her company but she hadn't given him much choice. Still, he had managed to fall asleep with his head on her lap.

Jim pursed his lips and frowned. "See, here's the thing. I'm starting to get real comfortable with you."

"And that's a bad thing?"

Guilt kept him from making eye contact, instead finding his hands much more interesting. "Yeah, it is."

"Why? Why is it a bad thing?" Leaning against the back of the couch, she stared up at the ceiling. "I don't understand, Jim. One minute you're kissing me and it's like we've got this incredible chemistry going on and then the next minute you're telling me it's a bad thing." She turned to look at him, anger lighting her eyes. "I just don't get it."

Exhaling heavily, Brass met her gaze. This was getting way too complicated and it was all his fault. Reaching over to take her hand, he said, "I'm sorry. I know I'm giving you all kinds of mixed signals."

"Yes, you are."

"I like you. I mean, I guess that's obvious." He paused, wondering how he could possibly tell her what the real reason was and instead opting for the easy answer. "I just don't think I'm the right guy for you."

"What?" She let go of his hand and stood up. "You start to get close and then pull away because you figure out I might get attached or something? Well, it's too late for that because I'm already attached."

"Ah, you're just feeling sorry for me cause I'm hurt." Nerves made Jim try to laugh it off but he knew it was the wrong thing to say. And judging by the red flush creeping up her neck, he figured he was in for one hellacious ass-chewing.

"Sorry? No. I don't feel sorry for you. I feel sad for you. I feel sad that you've closed yourself off to even the idea of being in love with someone. Sad that your ex-wife left you so beaten and scarred, that you feel incapable of being in a relationship again." She looked away for a moment before continuing. "I feel sad that you think no one can ever love you."

Brass rubbed his forehead, still not sure what to say. To be honest was there really anything left to say? She was right to be angry and frustrated with him, and it was pointless for him to try to argue.

Taking his silence as her cue, Sofia moved towards the front door. "Maybe I should go. Let you have some space to figure out what you want."

He felt himself nodding in agreement even though he really didn't want her to leave. His head hurt and at the moment, it seemed like the best decision to make.

Behind him he heard the door close as she left.

**xoxoxoxo**

"Why are all you men like this?"

"Cath, I called you for sympathy, not a beating."

Not knowing what to do but needing a sympathetic shoulder, Brass had called Catherine and asked her to meet him for a drink. It didn't matter that he was told specifically to avoid alcohol but it did occur to him that Catherine probably wasn't the best choice for a sympathetic ear. Gil would have probably been a better choice but Jim wasn't sure what kind of history Grissom had with Sofia and truthfully, he didn't want to know. Thinking of himself as sloppy seconds didn't do his ego much good.

"You deserve a beating."

Brass pointed at his head. "I've had one, thanks."

"Yeah, I heard what happened with Adams. Should you be drinking with a concussion?"

"I'm not drinking—I'm sipping. And I'm not even doing much of that."

"Stomach in knots?"

He looked up, not answering the question.

"Jim Brass, you're in love and like every other jackass on the planet, you're in denial."

"Seriously, Catherine, give it to me straight. Don't pull any punches."

"What do you want me to tell you that I haven't already said? It's obvious Sofia cares a great deal about you. No one in all of PD has had your back the way she has." Catherine leaned forward, closing the space between them. "Tell me, Jim, when was the last time you were in a serious relationship? And don't count me. We both know what that was."

Frowning, Jim leaned back in his chair and shifted uncomfortably at both her question and the reference to their very brief past. "I guess there really hasn't been any one since you."

"That's right. And why? Because you have some serious commitment issues."

"Look, Cath, I know I screwed things up between the two of us and yeah, I know I have a few issues to work through…"

"A few?"

He shook his head. "Look, cut me some slack, okay? This isn't about us."

Catherine put her hand on his. "You're right and I'm sorry."

Brass leaned forward again, the momentary tension quickly dissipating.

"Jim, I know you're afraid of all this but why? What's got you so hesitant? I mean, unless you're Gil Grissom, any fifty year old guy would be elated to know that a thirty-something woman was hot for him."

Brass chuckled. Yeah, he really was acting a lot like Grissom right about now. He'd certainly seen more than a few similarities between Gil and himself, giving him a whole new perspective on why the CSI had been dragging his heels with Sara Sidle for so long.

Brass could relate.

He liked Sofia. He'd admitted that much to her and to himself. Hell, he hadn't even denied it when Catherine said he was in love. Truthfully, he wasn't sure if it was really love or some sort of deep affection based on what they had been through. He tended to think it was the latter. But he knew he'd made a mess of things and this time, he didn't expect Sofia would be waiting around for him. Deep down, he knew it was all for the best but that didn't mean it still didn't sting a little.

Brass looked at Catherine, realizing that she was still waiting for an answer to all her questions. Taking a lingering sip of his beer, stalling for time as he thought about how to respond, he decided to take the direct route with Catherine. After all she'd been very direct with him.

"Because I'm not Gil Grissom."

"Well, thank goodness for that!"

"Seriously, Catherine, I'm not some good-looking, brainy entomologist with some sort of mystique going on that drives women wild. I'm just a middle-aged cop with a shitload of baggage."

"Come on, you and I both know that's not true."

"Oh, yeah, you're right." Brass fixed his gaze on hers. "I used to be a good cop but now I'm just the cop who killed a cop." There, he'd said it. And as his reward, he lifted up his glass in a silent toast and this time took a long draw.

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Yeah, well, it's the truth. Once she gets over this sympathy thing she's got going on and sees me for who I really am, she'll get bored with me."

"Goddammit, Jim, will you just stop! I certainly don't profess to be good friends with Sofia but I've worked with her enough now to know what she's like. I know that she's seen you for who you are and I sure as hell don't see her beating a path in the opposite direction. Have you ever stopped and noticed the way she looks at you? There's no pity; there's no sympathy. She genuinely likes you and it's written all over her face every time she's around you. Maybe if you'd stop feeling sorry for yourself and just open your eyes, you'd see it. And by the way, you really need to stop making assumptions about what women want. Don't ever discount the nice guy, Jim. Yeah, you might be carrying a lot of baggage but you're genuinely a nice guy who cares about others."

Brass started to protest but she cut him off.

"No, hear me out. I realize you have this tough cop reputation to uphold and I understand that because I know that's what it takes to deal with the scum you see every day. But I know you, Jim. I've seen how cases with young girls get to you because they remind you of Ellie. I've seen your intolerance for wives who sleep around and your sympathy for the long-suffering husbands. But more than anything else, I can see what Bell's death has done to you. You try to hide it. You act like nothing bothers you; like you go home every night and get a full eight hour's sleep but we both know that's not how it is. You do care and it does bother you—probably more than any of us will ever know.

"You've tried to deal with this in your own way but you know, sometimes you can't go it alone; sometimes you need someone who's more than a friend. And now you have this young woman and she's making it very clear that she wants to be more than a friend and I'm pretty sure you'd like her to be more than a friend but for some reason only you know, you don't think you're worthy. You worry that she won't like what she sees or that she'll get bored with you. So what? At least you'll have given her that chance. I know what it's like to have my heart broken by a man I had feelings for. If you even remotely feel the same way about her, don't put her through that kind of pain. It's not fair to her."

Brass was quiet for a long time, making Catherine wonder if she really had beaten him up. She knew she had been blunt but she had stood in Sofia's place and knew how the younger woman felt. The only difference was, Jim hadn't rushed out and gotten married. He was fully capable of returning Sofia's affections if only he could get past his own mental hurdles. And if a hard push was all he needed, then damn it, Catherine was going to push.

Brass put both hands on the table as if he were laying out his cards. "You're right, Catherine. You're right."

Sliding out of the booth, Jim got to his feet and tiredly walked out the door, leaving Catherine with nothing but a departing view of his broad back and a feeling that she'd just killed their friendship.

**xoxoxoxo**

Stepping into the spray of the steamy hot shower, Brass let the water cascade over his back, washing away the stench and grime of the night. He was dead tired, so tired he leaned his hand against the tile for support and closed his eyes.

Maybe it was the hot water loosening up his brain cells or maybe it was just that there were far too many issues still knocking around inside his head. Whatever the reason, he wasn't sure why the memory suddenly crowded into his head but there it was.

It had been during an interrogation of a suspect and even though Brass couldn't recall the exact words Gil had spoken at the time, he remembered what the scientist had said about someone young and beautiful showing up and offering a new life. Brass knew who Gil was referring to, but at the time Jim couldn't help relating it to his own situation with Catherine. Only now it wasn't about Catherine; now it was about Sofia. She was the one he couldn't get out of his head; she was the young and beautiful woman offering him a second chance and yet, Brass persisted in turning her away.

Unlike Gil Grissom though, it wasn't about risk. No, Brass had a much less complicated reason, one that he hadn't shared with Catherine, Sofia or even his PEAP counselor; one that he hadn't really figured out until now.

How could he possibly accept the affections of someone else when he didn't even like himself?

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: My apologies for the posting delay. I meant to have this up a week ago but real life had other ideas. This has spoilers for "Bang Bang" and "Way to Go" but at this point, I don't know if they really are spoilers. **

**I have to give props to emergency beta Nancy. My regular beta is in the process of moving so Nancy graciously stepped in and did a fabulous job. However, I also did to her what I do to Ethereal Journey and added in some extras so all mistakes you find are mine and mine alone. I hate sharing.**

**One last note: thanks to all of you who've read my little fic and especially those of you who've left a review. I really appreciate it! And just a little PS: Nell, you rock!**

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- **

**Playing the Hero**

**Part III**

Waving off yet another champagne-filled crystal flute, Sofia leaned against the back of the black Charger, watching drunken suspects continue to mill around the garden with eyes hidden by dark aviator sunglasses. She'd already completed her interviews and now she was just waiting for Jim to finish his last interview so they could head back to PD.

Three months had passed since she'd told him that she was giving him time to figure out what he wanted but despite plenty of opportunities, Jim had said nothing. Sofia had accepted her fate—that whatever Jim wanted, it didn't include her—and she had tried to move on. Working in such close proximity to Jim had been a little difficult for her at first and she couldn't deny feeling a little hurt by his actions but they were still partners and she wasn't about to let her personal disappointments interfere with her job.

She'd come to realize that maybe Jim was right. Maybe she was infatuated with him because he was hurt and vulnerable. She still cared about him—she hadn't been lying when she said she'd always have his back—but now it felt different. Though her feelings for him hadn't gone, they certainly had subsided.

At least that's what she told herself.

**xoxoxoxo**

Jim Brass stared just over the left shoulder of Adam Chase, trying not to focus on the scene taking place behind him while Adam fondly waxed on about his recently deceased mother's sacrifices. Jim knew he should be interested. Earlier that day, Diane Chase, noted criminal defense attorney, had been trussed up to the back bumper of a classic Bel Air convertible and dragged down the driveway like a rag doll. But Adam had given Brass all the pertinent information nearly ten minutes ago. Right now he was just letting young Adam go on because honestly, it was much more interesting to watch the waiter behind him down all the leftover champagne.

Walking back to his car, not really registering anything going on around him, Brass couldn't shake the feeling that lately he was just going through the motions. He'd tried to maintain the tough-guy image, the bland, cynical façade that he'd honed to perfection over the years. But he was slipping. Lately, it was getting harder to keep the personal from bleeding into the professional. Even with Sergeant Adams. Jim had felt so much better busting the other cop but a couple of days later and Brass started to question his own actions. Had he really busted Adams because he'd been a troublemaker or was it simply because of what he'd done to Jim? Brass liked to think it had never been about revenge but in some ways, he knew he'd made it personal.

Sliding into the car, he closed the door and leaned his head against the headrest. Jim always prided himself on never crossing the line, never letting his personal problems affect his job. But it was getting harder to keep the two completely separate. He was losing his grip on his personal life but then truth was, he felt like he hadn't had a grip on anything for quite some time.

"Jim, you okay?"

Visibly jerking out of his reverie, realizing that Sofia had probably been sitting there, watching him the entire time, he forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Hey, are you hungry? Want to grab a bite before we head back?"

"Sure. But please, not Frank's."

"Yeah, that place doesn't have the best memories for me either."

**xoxoxoxo**

The invitation for the retirement party for Captain Walt Murphy, Jim's counterpart on the day shift, was supposed to be a small gathering but judging by the crowd in the rented room at Caesars Palace, Brass figured someone must have put out a flyer for free beer. He'd only found a few familiar faces in the room but that was to be expected. Most of these guys were coming into work when Brass was heading home.

Sitting alone at one of the tables back in the corner, watching the room and nursing a Sam Adams, Brass noticed her arrival. Coming from the day shift, Sofia had been greeted warmly, obviously well acquainted with many of the cops and civilians present. Seeing how easily she blended in, how easily she was accepted, made Brass feel a little envious. When he'd walked in, the crowd parted and the conversation quelled as everyone turned to stare. He'd learned to ignore the surreptitious glances and loud whispers but being treated like an outcast with a communicable disease still hurt. He just did his best not to let it show.

His eyes never left her, following her as she broke away from the group and made her way over to his table.

"Mind if I join you?"

Brass looked up at her and frowned. "Careful, you might catch what I have."

Glancing around the room, Sofia immediately saw what he meant. His was the only table with available seating.

"I'll take my chances." Sofia pulled out the chair and sat down. "Nice turnout."

Brass picked at the label on his beer. "Yeah, Walt's a good guy."

They sat in silence mostly, Sofia watching Brass while Brass watched the crowd.

Jim had been tempted to toss away the invitation, claim he didn't know, but deep down he knew he had to go. Walt Murphy was a friend as well as a colleague and retirement was a big deal for a police officer. Walt had put in more than thirty years. Brass knew it wasn't his decision to retire; he'd hit the mandatory ceiling and was being forced out. As far as Brass knew, Walt had no plans after retiring, no grandchildren to spoil or even a wife to annoy. The similarities weren't lost on Jim either. Walt Murphy was ten years older but for the most part, his life was just a preview of what Jim could expect.

Brass took a long draw on the long neck, finishing the beer quickly then looking over at Sofia's own nearly empty bottle. "You ready for another?"

"Sure, I'll take whatever you're drinking." Sofia watched him slip past her, his hand brushing across her shoulder as he went by.

Jim made his way to the busy bar and raised his hand in an effort to get the bartender's attention, leaning against the railing when she told him to hang on.

"Man, these retirement parties are a drag."

"No lie. When my time comes just give me my fuckin' pension and I'm out the door."

The two men were standing so close to Brass, he couldn't help but overhear their conversation. Jim easily recognized the man closest to him as Roy Kennington, an overly cocky dayshift detective, but he couldn't place the other man.

"Maybe getting gunned down in a firefight really is the way to go. You know, never see it coming and die a hero."

"Yeah, but with your luck, you'd get gunned down by one of your own." At the other man's nudging, Kennington looked over and met Brass's withering glare. "Sorry, Captain. Didn't see you there."

Brass left the bar just as the bartender stepped up to take his order.

**xoxoxoxo**

Sofia saw Jim walk past the table and immediately followed, catching up with him just outside the door.

Brass didn't offer an explanation, only a very terse, "I need to get out of here," when she touched his shoulder.

"I'm coming with you."

"This is my problem, not yours."

"I already told you, I'll take my chances. Besides, I'm not going to let you go home when you're this angry." Her hand slid down his shoulder to his arm. "Come on, let's take a walk. Give you a chance to cool off."

The last tendrils of sunlight gave the sky a pinkish glow as they left the lobby and emerged into the warm, dry air. Under different circumstances, it was the perfect night to take a stroll along Las Vegas Boulevard. But not tonight. Jim had taken a brisk pace and it was all Sofia could do to keep up with him.

Brass stopped in front of the fountain as the lights suddenly illuminated the spray of white water. Taking a deep breath, he realized this was the very same place he'd last had some semblance of a decent conversation with Ellie. Despite a very tumultuous beginning, they'd seemed to make peace with one another that night, if only for a few minutes. But all that had changed in Los Angeles. Whatever ground they'd gained in Vegas had been completely eroded in L.A., leaving nothing but an empty hole in Jim's gut. He loved his daughter but every day he feared the worst.

Ellie: yet another spectacular failure.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened back there?"

Suddenly feeling very weary, Brass stared at the water shooting into the air, mesmerized by the way the light reflected off of each tiny droplet. He'd heard her question but he wasn't in the mood to talk about it just yet.

"One of the guys at the bar said something." Sofia didn't ask the question, she stated it knowing perfectly well that's what happened.

Jim lowered his gaze to the sidewalk. He really was angry but mostly at himself—just as he had been for the last five months. "I overreacted. Look," he said, looking up and slowly rubbing the place over his right eye where the headache had settled. "I think I'm just gonna go home."

"Walk you to your car?"

He laughed. "I should be walking you to your car."

"That's okay. I'm just going to head back inside for a little while. I never got a chance to say good-bye to Walt. Walk halfway?"

"Nah, you go ahead. I'm just going hang out here for a couple of minutes."

Sofia got the hint. He really wanted to be left alone but was too polite to tell her to get lost. "Okay, then. I'll see you later."

Jim gave her a half smile and a wink then watched her until she disappeared safely inside the hotel. Resting his elbows on the ledge, he turned his attention back to the fountain, surprised at the way the dancing water and the roar of white noise gave him a sense of calm he hadn't felt in a long time.

**xoxoxoxo**

Sofia barely heard the knock at her door and if it hadn't persisted, she would have rolled over in bed and ignored it. Making her way down the hallway, cautiously sliding her gun from its holster, she peered through the peephole. As another knock sounded on the metal door, she set the gun down and answered, her face registering concern as Jim Brass stood in the brightly lit corridor.

"Jim? What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?"

"Sure." She opened the door wider, allowing him to pass. "Are you okay?"

At first she wondered if he'd been drinking. He'd said he was going home but that was no guarantee that he didn't knock back a couple before coming over. Still, she knew Jim wouldn't drive drunk. He would never take that risk.

"I'm sorry to get you out of bed and all." He couldn't help but crack a smile at what she was wearing: a worn UNLV t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. Any other time he would have been turned on by her appearance but not now.

"It's not a problem, really. Do you want something to drink?" Glancing around, she hoped Jim wouldn't notice the mess. It wasn't that she didn't clean; it was just that unlike Jim, she had a tendency to let the clutter get out of hand, leaving stacks of unopened mail and magazines all over the place.

"No, I'm good." Jim stood firmly in the hallway, leaning his back against the wall for needed support. What he wanted to say wasn't going to come easily "Sofia, I been thinking about this."

"This?" She could sense his uneasiness from the moment he arrived and now it was beginning to bleed over to her.

"Us," he clarified. "This thing between _us_, you don't know how bad I want to give it a chance. The problem is I'm not even half the man you think I am. And I don't know if I can ever be anything more."

Sofia reached for his hands, feeling the cool strength as he squeezed back. "I've seen you at probably the lowest point in your life, I've seen you at your most vulnerable and I've seen you at your very best. Jim, you're every bit the man I think you are."

"I don't want you to be disappointed with me."

"Love me back. That's all I ask."

Her expression was honest and sincere and made Jim hate himself even more. "I want to," he said. "You don't know how much I want to, but I don't know if I can—not yet anyway."

Looking at him, seeing the pain etched around his eyes, she finally understood. He had to make peace with himself before he could ever love someone else. "I'm willing to wait."

They stood together in a tight embrace for what seemed like forever before Sofia finally pulled away. "Stay with me?"

Faintly, Brass nodded. He didn't want to go back to a dark, empty house; he didn't want to be alone. He'd had far too much of that lately. And maybe, just maybe, the comfort of a warm body would help to wash away the memories.

Taking him by the hand, she led him to her bedroom.

She watched Jim undress, watched him meticulously line the creases of his trousers together and then lay them over the back of a chair.

He stood impossibly still as Sofia helped him off with his shirt, taking the hem and lifting the dark polo over his head, then folding it neatly and placing it with his trousers.

Stripped down to his boxer-briefs, Sofia liked what she saw, even if Jim did look slightly embarrassed. Not the body of a thirty year old by a long shot but apart from a little softness around his middle, it was obvious Brass kept himself in shape.

They sat together on the bed, not really sure what came next. Sofia hadn't asked him to stay because of some sort of sexual need and Jim seemed to understand that. Besides, she suspected he wouldn't be up for it and the last thing she wanted to do was give him yet another reason to doubt himself.

"You have a tattoo?" Sofia ran her fingers over the dark ink on his right shoulder, tracing the lines.

"Yeah, it was a rite of passage for every New Jersey cop. Besides, it wouldn't look right for a guy in Vice not to have one."

"But Jim, it's a snowflake."

"It's for Ellie. When she was little—about three, I think—she told her mom and me that she didn't want to be called Ellie any more. She wanted to be called, _Snowflake_. Nancy told her she couldn't change her name and she got really upset. So I told her that even though she'd always be Ellie, she could be my little snowflake." Jim grew quiet as he recalled the memory, of a time when Ellie would come and sit on his lap and he'd read her stories until she fell asleep. He missed that little girl so bad sometimes, it hurt. "Anyway," he said, clearing his throat, "that was always my name for her—until she got older."

Sofia didn't know the particulars of Jim's relationship with his daughter but she knew they weren't on the best terms and that the girl had been in some kind of trouble in the past. She also knew that trouble had nearly gotten Jim killed. Hearing him recount the story though, hearing the slight crack in his voice, she knew that Ellie would always be his Achilles' heel.

Without saying a word, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. She'd only been fooling herself when she tried to tell herself it was nothing but infatuation. She was in love with Jim Brass, pure and simple. And she was pretty sure he was in love with her too—even if he couldn't bring himself to accept it.

**xoxoxoxo**

As the sun blazed over the Las Vegas skyline, Sofia Curtis drowsily opened one eye then reached out and ran her hand over the void next to her. Feeling the cool cotton sheets and realizing he'd been gone for a while, she sat up quickly and looked around the room. His clothes were gone and so was he.

Sighing in frustration, she tossed back the covers and got out of bed. After a quick stop in the bathroom, she headed into the kitchen where the aroma of fresh coffee took away a little of her irritation. Pouring herself a cup, she noticed the note he'd left on the counter.

Although he'd thanked her for her company and for the best night's sleep he'd had in months and despite his promise to call her later, there was a finality to the note that made her think that it was the last she'd see of Jim Brass.

**xoxoxoxo**

Driving into work, Brass couldn't lose the feeling of guilt. He knew he'd taken the easy way out at Sofia's by leaving her a note. He also knew he was a shit for doing it.

Pulling into the LVPD parking lot, he parked the car and sat, not ready to go inside just yet. Leaning his head against the headrest and closing his eyes, he could still feel the warmth of her body. She'd slept most of the night curled up against him and he'd liked that. He felt comfortable with her, relaxed, but mostly it was nice to feel like someone actually wanted him. Sofia didn't judge him or make him feel like some sort of outcast; she seemed content just to know he was there.

But in the light of a new day, Brass had awoken feeling apprehensive. What if she wanted more from him? And what if she couldn't give it to her? He couldn't disappoint her again. He didn't want to see the hurt in her eyes as she told him it was okay; he didn't want to know that once again he'd let her down. So he'd left before the questions could be answered. Nancy always said he was gutless like that. For once she was right.

Startled by the knock on his window, Jim quickly rolled down the window.

"Sorry, sir," the young uniformed officer said. "Saw you sitting there with the engine idling and wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Didn't get enough sleep, I guess."

"I hear that. Okay, then take it easy."

"Sure, thanks." Turning off the engine, Jim slowly got out of the car and crossed the parking lot, feeling every one of his fifty-five years and hoping like hell it would be an uneventful night.

**xoxoxoxo**

Seeing Brass walk down the corridor, Catherine called out, "Hey, Jim!" then ran to catch up with him as he stopped. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine, why?" He was getting awfully tired of everyone asking him if he was okay. Did he really look that bad?

Jim started to turn away but her hand on his arm stopped him. "Well, I haven't really talked to you in a couple of months. Are we okay?"

Brass shrugged off the question with a shake of his head. "We're fine, Cath."

"Everything okay with Sofia?"

He cocked his head slightly. "You working the homicide over on Viking?"

It was too blatant to be a hint; it was more like a slap upside the head. "Um, no, I think that's Warrick and Grissom. Look, maybe we can have dinner sometime?"

"Sure. I'll catch up with you later." He grinned as he turned to leave but the smile never reached his eyes.

Catherine watched him leave, aware that this wasn't the first time she'd been left looking at his back as he walked away.

Somehow, she wasn't sure they really were fine but then nothing about Jim had really been fine since last November and Catherine wasn't sure it ever would be.

**xoxoxoxo**

Brass still wasn't sure how he came to be here, alone in a hotel room with a frightened young woman looking to him as her personal Jesus and a deranged man who'd already murdered three people, shot a security guard and had no qualms about killing two more.

It wasn't the first time Brass had stared down the barrel of a gun and it wasn't his first hostage negotiation. He'd stepped in once before back in Jersey and still had nightmares about the end result. This girl, Jackie she said her name was, didn't deserve to have her brains spread like a cheese calzone all over a cheap hotel room and Brass was going to make sure she didn't. Whatever happened, he was not going to fuck this up. He couldn't live with himself if he did.

On the other side of the door he could almost feel the collective heartbeats of the SWAT team, anxious and ready for him to give the kill word. Jim smiled inwardly, careful not to alert Willie Cutler to his own private joke.

He just wondered if anyone else would get it.

**xoxoxoxo**

Sofia Curtis strolled down the corridor, curious at the crowd gathering around the break room television. "Hey, what's up?"

It was one of the uniformed officers that spoke up first. "Hostage situation at the Lucky Dragon. Murder suspect shot one of the casino security guards then grabbed a woman and is holed up in one of the rooms."

"I heard the negotiator is stuck in traffic so one of our guys had to go in," another officer chimed in.

"Any idea who?" Sofia asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee and stepping to the front to get a better look at the live coverage.

"Yeah, it's Brass."

Sofia felt the Styrofoam cup slip from her grasp but didn't move as the hot coffee splattered onto the floor.

**xoxoxoxo**

Standing across from Willie Cutler, chewing the wad of gum as his adrenaline pulsed, never breaking eye contact with the gunman, Brass knew that his chances of walking out of the hotel room were somewhere between slim and none. But he hadn't forgotten about Jackie. He wasn't going to let her down. He wasn't going to have her blood on his conscience. There just wasn't any more room.

Brass knew what he had to do. Keep Cutler's attention focused on him. Keep him talking and pray the girl didn't do anything to distract him. It would all be over in a matter of seconds. Brass felt relaxed. No pressure, no fear, no pain—just an inexplicable feeling of relief.

This was the easy way out. Play the hero, die protecting a young woman and everyone forgets about the mistakes. Redemption would come in one word.

"Jim."

**The End.**


End file.
